


Collared Moon

by tridecaphilia



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Gen, M/M, Master/Slave, Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-08-11 06:34:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7880275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tridecaphilia/pseuds/tridecaphilia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After two attempts to run away, Saix had almost convinced himself to be content with his life as attendant to the heir of Radiant Garden. Almost. Until King Mickey of Disneyland put Saix at the center of his crusade against slavery--and his master fell in love with him.</p><p>An AkuSai deconstruction of master/slave tropes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A few disclaimers:
> 
> The idea of Saix/Isa being from Agrabah is adapted from Aaron's (bcrscrkcr on Tumblr) headcanon that he's Middle Eastern. Obviously there's no Middle East in Kingdom Hearts, but there is Agrabah. The actual tribal culture Saix is from, the Bazhir, is taken wholecloth from Tamora Pierce's Tortall saga, namely the Song of the Lioness quartet. The choke collars Saix and other slaves wear are also taken from Tamora Pierce, and show up in her books Trickster's Choice and Trickster's Queen.
> 
> Now that that's out of the way.
> 
> I'm fairly new to the Kingdom Hearts fandom--I migrated here from the Maze Runner fandom. The rules of my fics are roughly the same. They update once a week--this one will update Fridays--until they finish, and if there's interest and muse, I write a sequel. If I finish way ahead of schedule, I may bump it up to twice a week. I originally planned for this fic to last ten chapters, but act one is taking much longer than anticipated, so I'm guessing twelve at this point. I might bump it up again later, depending how it goes.
> 
> One more thing. People who've read my work for other fandoms will know: I write dark stuff. Very dark. I'm also neither a romantic nor an optimist. There's a reason this is a deconstruction.

_ Ten years ago _

_ “I want that one.” _

_ Ansem looked the slave over and shook his head. “No. You will have a bred slave. This one isn't even broken.” _

_ Lea rolled his eyes. “I don't _ want _ a bred slave. I want him.” _

_ The auctioneer was naming the slave’s qualities. With every word, Ansem shook his head more.  _

_ “Mages cannot be broken,” he said. “Nor can fighters. This one is both, and a runaway to boot.” _

_ “Come on, Dad. You said this was for me. So I should get to pick.” _

_ “I said it was time you had an attendant,” Ansem said sternly. “I never said you would choose him.” _

_ The crowd was silent, no bids offered. No one was willing to risk so much on a slave who bore the X-shaped scar--twice a runaway.  _

_ ~ _

“Dad, can I go into town?”

Ansem didn't even look up from the reports he was reading. “Don't talk with your mouth full.”

Lea rolled his eyes, swallowed, and asked again. “Can I go into town?”

Now Ansem looked up. “What business have you in town?”

Lea made a face. “Not business. I just want to go into town, see people. I haven't been out in weeks.”

Ansem shook his head. “Not now, Lea. Not for frivolity. It's too dangerous.”

Lea ignored that. He knew what his father was talking about, and he didn't care. “I'll take a guard. And Saïx will be with me.”

Saïx looked up sharply from the coffee he'd been fixing his master. Lea gave him a look as pleading as the one he'd given Ansem. Not that he needed to. Saïx went where he did. 

“In that case, absolutely not.” Ansem looked back at the reports. “You'll not take your runaway into the city with the current climate.”

“He's never tried to run away from _ me,”  _ Lea argued. 

“Only because we haven't given him the chance,” Ansem said. “And I intend to keep it that way.”

Saix didn’t answer, just set the coffee beside Lea. “Thanks,” Lea said without looking at him. “Look, he’s fine. He won’t run from me.”

“The young master would like to go into town,” Roxas chimed in.

Lea and Ansem both looked over at Ienzo. The younger prince signed again, his attendant watching him closely.

“He wants to see Kairi,” Roxas translated. “She was going to show him around Fountain Square. She says there’s a hidden passage there.”

Lea gave Ansem one more pleading look. “Come on,  _ please? _ We’ll take Ienzo. We’ll even take a guard if you’re worried.”

“You most certainly will take a guard,” Ansem said sternly. “That much is not up for debate.”

“Fine, we’ll take a guard. Aeleus or Braig or whoever you want.”

“Aeleus will be best,” Ansem said. “Provided I let you go at all.”

Lea smiled. Ienzo was on his side. They were going.

~

Ansem gave in, of course. He always gave in when Ienzo was the one asking. Ienzo could get anything he wanted, far more than Lea could get away with. Maybe it was because he was the younger, not expected to immediately assume Ansem’s responsibilities as ruler of Radiant Garden. Maybe because he was mute, or because of how he’d gotten that way. Maybe Ansem was just used to Lea being stubbornly unreasonable and wanting to do stupid things, and he assumed anything he said could be safely ignored. Lea didn’t think that was entirely fair, but when he complained to Saix, the slave only raised his eyebrows.

“As you say, Master,” he murmured, eyes on Lea’s feet.

Lea sighed, looking across the car at Ienzo and Roxas, who were deep in a signed conversation. “I just don’t  _ get _ it,” he complained. “Why is he so worried anyway? The attempt was months ago.”

Saix didn’t say anything. Lea sighed again and looked at him. “You can answer, you know.”

Saix’s eyes hadn’t left Lea’s feet. “It’s not for me to say, Master,” he said.

“God,” Lea groaned, lying back on the seat of the limo. “I’m  _ asking _ you, dude. I thought you had a brain.”

He glanced over in time to see Saix looking over at Roxas and Ienzo.  _ Oh. _ Right. Not questioning Ansem’s decisions in front of people who weren’t Lea made sense. Not that Saix really questioned Ansem even when Lea was the only one around.

He huffed another sigh and looked at the front of the limo. Aeleus was in a motorcycle riding beside them, which was technically illegal but who would stop the ruler’s guards from doing what they wanted?

Honestly, he knew better than to push Saix to answer if he didn’t want to. For all that he’d tried to run away twice before they got him, Saix had been  _ painfully _ well behaved. Ansem had been wrong. Someone had broken him, brought him to heel. Not for the first time, Lea wished they hadn’t. There had been flashes of  _ something _ in Saix over the years, when he let the mask slip. Lea wanted to get to know  _ that _ Saix. He wanted his attendant to--well, to not hate him.

Up ahead, Aeleus yelled, and something slammed into the car.

Lea’s head whipped around.  _ Aeleus? _

There was a noise Lea couldn’t identify and the window shattered.

“Down!” Saix yelled, grabbing Lea and pushing him to the ground.

Lea yelped in surprise. He’d never seen Saix move so fast, or raise his voice for that matter. Odd, of all the things to stand out about this moment.

“Aeleus!” Saix yelled.

“Out here! Stay in the car!”

“What’s going on?” Roxas asked.

In answer, Saix grabbed both him and Ienzo by the collar and pulled them to the ground. “Stay down,” he hissed.

Lea stared, transfixed, as Saix got to his knees and peered out the shattered window. Gone was the perfect slave he’d been for so many years. This Saix was wilder, energy barely contained by his skin, green eyes fixed on the outside.

The strange trance Lea had fallen into was broken by Aeleus’s scream.

“Stay here,” Saix hissed, and opened the door.

~

Ten years ago, Saix had been a fairly new slave, twice a runaway in his first three years of service. He’d been trained in weapons and both battle and healing magic. His skills were rusty, but they’d do the job.

Aeleus had fallen. He’d seen that much. And there were people on the rooftops, shooting with guns. He’d  _ thought _ the streets had gotten quiet quickly, but he hadn’t guessed that they’d be attacked. Who would even know the King’s wards would be out today, let alone had time and reason to plan an ambush?

Pure chance led him to crouch beside Aeleus at the same time a bullet sped through the space where his head had been.  _ Guns. _ He grimaced. It was hard for anyone to get their hands on the weapons Port Royal so jealously hoarded. And what did slip through the cracks was usually shoddily made and inaccurate at best. Magic was much more reliable.

He scooped up Aeleus’s sword. He was forbidden to carry a weapon, but unless he wanted to take a chance and run for a third time, it was that or die. And the collar around his neck would choke him if he went more than a mile from his master. Fight it was.

He lifted the sword, channeled the magic he knew so well into it. “Wind!”

A burst of wind swept the shooter off the roof toward him. She tumbled to the ground, rolled to her feet and came up with knives in both hands. Saix lifted Aeleus’s sword, parrying the first attack.

“Why do you fight?” the woman hissed as she came back in for another attack. “We will free you!”

Saix didn’t answer, just parried the next round of attacks and turned the sword around to cut across her stomach. The woman leapt back, into a handspring that took her out of harm’s way.

Saix watched, waited. She’d have to come in close if she wanted to hit him.

Or not. The woman  _ threw _ all the knives in one hand with sudden force, steel darts arrowing for Saix’s face. His eyes widened and he dove to the side. It didn’t quite work out how it would have ten years ago--he hit the ground with his shoulder and pain rattled his bones--but he made it through the roll and up to his feet again, charging the woman. She could not be allowed near the car.

Again she tumbled out of the way, this time moving past him, toward the King’s charges--toward Aeleus’s fallen body. Saix lashed out, spinning into the strike and barely catching her with a graze across her back.

She yelled and spun around to face him, spitting mad. “You  _ traitor! _ ” she screamed. “You owe them  _ nothing! _ ”

He didn’t deign to answer. He certainly didn’t owe a stranger who’d tried to kill him any explanation for his actions. He lunged, bringing Aeleus’s sword up again.

The woman dodged the attack, bringing her knives up to stab Saix’s left arm. He stepped back quickly, pulling the sword in, and almost by accident the blade bit deep into her hand. She yelled as her knives fell from fingers that were suddenly a joint shorter.

Saix didn’t pause for regret or apology. The woman had tried to kill his master, and he would have either been caught in the crossfire or killed for not defending him. He lashed out again, Fira spiraling around the blade of his sword. Once again she dodged, but the fire caught her arm, catching her sleeve and crawling up her body.

The woman screamed, yanking at her coat to try to get it off.

Saix drove his sword through her chest.

A look of shock and surprise crossed the woman’s face as she fell to the ground, and Saix took a moment to recover. He was hurt--he didn’t remember getting hit, but there were cuts along his upper arm that were bleeding badly. Irrelevant. His master--

“Saix!”

There. He’d known his master wouldn’t stay inside now that the danger was over.

Lea stumbled as he leapt too fast out of the car, running toward Saix. Saix who still held a forbidden weapon in his hand.

~

Lea’s feet stuttered to a halt as Saix dropped to one knee, setting his sword beside him and lowering his head.

“Saix? What--?”

“I beg your forgiveness, Master,” Saix said. Gone was the fire that had filled him when they were under attack. Every inch of him was once again the perfect slave.

“Forgiveness?” Lea repeated, brain scrambling. What was he talking about?

“For taking up arms,” Roxas said helpfully.

Lea looked over his shoulder. Ienzo and Roxas had gotten out of the limo. Roxas’s eyes were on his master as he translated the signs flying from Ienzo’s fingers.

“For--” Lea looked back at Saix, heart sinking. “Of course I forgive you,” he said, surprised his voice didn’t crack. “You saved me. You saved all of us.”

“The young master would like to inquire as to the health of Aeleus,” Roxas said.

“He was alive when I took his blade, young master,” Saix replied without moving or looking up. “His wounds were serious but not fatal. With your permission, I can heal him.”

“Do it,” Lea ordered.

“As you command, Master.”

Saix got to his feet, keeping his eyes down as he went to Aeleus and knelt beside him. He pressed his hands together, then to Aeleus’s chest. “Heal,” he murmured. Green light flared around his hands and soaked into Aeleus’s skin. The awful wound Lea had been trying not to look at sealed back together.

“The young master would like to now heal  _ your _ wounds,” Roxas piped up.

Saix looked up, startled out of his role as the deferent slave. He caught himself quickly and looked back down. “If my master commands,” he said.

“Yeah,” Lea said, frowning. “‘Course. I don’t want you hurt.”

“Thank you, Master.”

Saix went to Ienzo, who put his hands on the wounds in his arm. Lea watched him--arms too strong for a mere personal attendant, the collar that would choke him if he tried to run, X-shaped scar on his face still screaming to all the world that he’d run anyway, twice.

Saix had been a constant in his life since he’d convinced his father to buy him. Ansem had warned him when he did that Saix would prove him right within a week and he’d have to pick a bred slave.

But Saix had, to Ansem’s continuing surprised, behaved perfectly. Somewhere between his second attempt to run away and that auction, someone had brought him to heel. This was the first time Lea had seen more than a glimpse beneath that mask, seen the fighter the auctioneer had said him to be.

He liked what he saw.

~

Saix stayed quiet on the way back, trying not to think of what awaited him when they returned home.

He would of course have to confess to Ansem what he’d done. It had been Ansem’s orders he’d violated, not Lea’s. Lea might be his master, but it was Ansem’s name on the property papers, Ansem who owned him.

There had been no question of continuing their journey. Leaving the castle so soon after an attempt on the King’s life had been risky enough. Continuing the trip after an attempt on  _ theirs _ would be tantamount to suicide.

The people could not be kept away now. The car moved slowly, careful not to injure any of the well-wishers who flocked to the car wanting to be sure no one had been gravely injured. Saix ignored the whispers when people saw his scar. Most of Radiant Garden knew by now that the heir to the throne was attended by a runaway slave. The news had circulated many times over the past ten years. But most of the people passing by had never seen such a slave. The scar--burned into his skin by dark fire so it could not fade or be healed--would mark him forever as something to stare at.

Despite the crowds, Lea seemed right at home. Saix’s master chatted happily with the people who came to look through the ruined windows, reached through and shook hands with a few of them. Ienzo, on the other side of the car, waved and smiled through the tinted glass.

“We’re fine,” Lea promised over and over. “We’re all fine.”

He didn’t mention Saix’s role in keeping them that way, for which Saix could only be grateful. Rumors spread quickly in Radiant Garden, and he didn’t want Ansem finding out from anyone but Aeleus and Saix what had happened. He  _ thought _ Aeleus would be on his side, if for no other reason than that Saix had healed his wounds. The guards had always been fair to Saix, none of them hating him, as Ansem did, for being a runaway and a fighter.

Lea breathed a sigh of relief when the limo left the crowds and made it to the private streets that ringed the castle. He shot Saix a sheepish grin, reminding Saix to look down rather than at his master’s face.

“I love people,” he said. “But man, it’s nerve-wracking having so many around after all that.”

“As you say, Master,” Saix murmured. It wasn’t his to say. He was neither guard nor servant. His will belonged to his master.

He waited, eyes on his master’s feet, until the limo stopped in front of the castle. The driver stepped out and opened the door. Lea left, then Ienzo and Roxas. Saix followed.

“My sons!”

Saix stepped behind his master, hating himself for the cowardice. He would have to face Ansem eventually, would have to tell him that he’d disobeyed the oldest orders he was still expected to follow.

The problem was, he didn’t know what Ansem would do. He might only have Saix beaten, or he might decide Saix could not be broken after all and sell him again.

It startled Saix to realize that he did not want to be sold. If he had to be a slave, this was not a bad household to be a slave in. Ansem was strict but fair, ensured his slaves had enough to eat and were not punished for imagined crimes. Saix had been in worse households. If Ansem sold him, he might well be in a worse household again.

Saix looked up through his lashes enough to see Ansem embrace first Lea, then Ienzo. He looked rattled. Had something happened at the castle?

“Aeleus arrived five minutes ago,” Ansem said, looking between his charges. “He told me--”

He looked up at Saix, and something shifted in his expression. Saix took that as his cue, dropped to one knee and lowered his head, hand over his heart.

“My Lord Ansem,” he said. “I beg your forgiveness. I have taken up arms and magic. I meant only to defend my master, but in doing so I disobeyed your orders. There is no excuse.”

“Saix--” Lea began.

Saix didn’t look up, and Lea didn’t go on. Somehow Ansem must have silenced him.

“Aeleus told me,” Ansem said heavily. “That he fell, and you took up his sword and killed the woman who felled him.”

Saix didn’t answer. Lea expected answers when he was only talking, but Ansem was stricter. A slave was to be quiet unless asked a direct question or responding to an order. That Saix had spoken at all was unusual enough.

“Stand up, Saix.”

He rose, eyes on Ansem’s feet. He lowered his hand to his side.

“I owe you my children’s lives.”

There was something in Ansem’s voice that made Saix wish he could look at his face and see what was there. But not now, not while Ansem decided his fate.

Ansem cleared his throat. “You are forgiven your offenses,” he said, voice back to normal.

Saix bowed, hands pressed together in front of him, as he would have bowed to the sultan of his homeland. “Thank you, my Lord Ansem.”

“I have much to discuss,” Ansem said, speaking now to his children. “Trouble struck here as well while you were out. No one was seriously injured.”

He was quiet, and Roxas said, “The young master would like to offer his services healing anyone who was hurt in any way.”

“That won’t be necessary, Ienzo.” Saix could imagine the fatherly hand that had landed on the twelve-year-old’s head. “Even has already done his work. You run along. You have riding lessons in an hour, since your journey was cut short.”

Saix could imagine the face Ienzo was making. Radiant Garden had cars--Ansem’s family had a limo--but most people in other areas still trusted horses and carriages. Ienzo and Lea, as rulers, would have to travel to such places; as such, they had to know how to ride and handle a horse.

“What about me?” Lea asked.

“You have your own lessons to attend to,” Ansem said. “And you will join me for dinner this evening with King Mickey of Disneyland. You are old enough for it.”

Lea groaned. Saix hid his surprise. The King of Disneyland was coming  _ here? _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got tied up all yesterday, but here we go.

_ Nine years ago _

_ “Saix. Saix, wake up.” _

_ The slave’s eyes flew open, body tensing as he sought out the speaker. He relaxed when he saw Lea. “Master?” he asked, looking over at the window. “It’s not dawn. What do you need of me?” _

_ “Need? Nothing.” Lea grinned proudly. “We’re going into the city before Dad wakes up.” _

_ For a moment, Saix looked alarmed. Lea ignored that, turned to the task of getting dressed. “Why are we not telling Lord Ansem, Master?” Saix asked. _

_ “Because,” Lea said as he pulled on a plain black tunic, “you’ve been with me a year. And that’s how long it’s been since I went and saw Zack.” _

_ “Zack?” Saix asked, bewildered. _

_ “Don’t worry,” Lea assured him. “You’ll like him.” _

~

Present Day

Most of the world ran on slave labor. It was something of a necessity in some areas. The factories of Traverse Town, the vast plantations of the Jungle could not run on paid labor. There was simply too much labor in those places, and not enough money. The rest of the world had grown accustomed to slavery so long ago that virtually nowhere debated its necessity.

Except Disneyland.

King Mickey had abolished slavery within his lands when he took the throne fourteen years ago, and since then had been fighting for other lands to do the same. He’d been locked in talks with Eraqus of the Land of Departure for many years. The Land of Departure did not keep slaves itself, but would allow visitors from other lands to bring slaves without those slaves becoming free, and it had replaced prison with hard labor. King Mickey had tried to talk Eraqus out of what he called “concessions to a vile machine,” but to no avail.

Lea yawned as Selphie went on about the relations between Disneyland and Radiant Garden. His father had been the target of Mickey’s diplomatic attempts recently, for what reason Lea couldn’t fathom. Radiant Garden was a feudal nation, not a pure monarchy like Disneyland. Some of the states of the Garden relied heavily on slavery. Ansem of all people wouldn’t bankrupt his nobles, or worse, push them to declare war against him.

“So why is he coming here, if it’s going so badly?” he asked, interrupting the teacher.

Selphie sighed. “His Majesty invited King Mickey to talks,” she said. “I believe he is hoping to renew talks of lowering King Mickey’s ban on bringing slaves into the country.”

“Yeah,  _ that’s _ gonna happen,” Lea muttered, looking over at Saix. His attendant was standing by the wall, hands clasped in front of him, eyes down. Lea’s mouth twisted. Saix’s face was always so perfectly blank. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking behind those eyes.

“Saix,” he said. “I’m thirsty.”

Saix bowed, hands pressed together in front of him. Lea had never asked why he did that. Maybe he should. “I will fetch water, Master,” Saix promised, and left the room.

“You’re really not going to listen no matter what I do, are you?” Selphie asked.

Well. He kinda felt guilty when she put it like that. “No offense,” he said, scratching his head. “I just--don’t see what all this has to do with me.”

Selphie put a hand on his. “You’re the heir to the throne of Radiant Garden, Lea,” she said. “You’re twenty-four. Your father expected you to already know this by now.”

“Yeah, well then he should’ve adopted me younger,” Lea said. “Not my fault I’m behind by ten years.”

“Only a few years, Your Highness,” Selphie said. “You wouldn’t have started lessons until you were at least seven or eight.”

“Right.” Well, there went that excuse. “I dunno, I just--Ienzo would be better at this than me.”

“Ienzo is young and can’t talk,” Selphie reminded him. “He will be your heir, if you don’t have a child, but you are the first in line.”

If he didn’t have a child. Well, that wouldn’t be a problem. He wasn’t even attracted to women. Hell, he wasn’t attracted to  _ any-- _

Unbidden, an image rose up in his mind, stolen earlier that day as he peeked through the windshield against Saix’s orders--Saix holding Aeleus’s sword, standing against the would-be assassin.

He coughed, diverting his attention back to the lesson.

Saix returned before Selphie could get them back on track, setting a glass of water in front of Lea. “Will there be anything else, Master?” he asked.

So quiet. So obedient. Ansem might like him this way, but it was starting to grate on Lea’s nerves. “What’s that thing you do when you bow mean?” he blurted.

Saix started to glance up, then caught himself and look down. “I don’t--know what you’re referring to, Master.”

“The thing with your hands. Like you’re praying. Why do you do that?”

Saix looked down at his hands like he hadn’t seen them before. “It’s a mark of respect, Master,” he said. “In my homeland, it’s how we bow to our royals.”

“Oh.” That--seemed flattering, and a little weird.  _ This _ was Saix’s homeland now, right? Not--”What is your homeland?”

“I was born in Agrabah, Master.”

“Right.” He’d known that. Hadn’t he? Saix  _ looked _ like he was from Agrabah, with his dark skin. But--thinking back, no, Lea had never bothered to find out. “That--that’s all.” Awkwardly he added, “Thanks.”

Saix bowed, hands pressed together again (Lea  _ was _ a royal, but it was suddenly weird to see Saix treat him like one), and retreated to the wall.

~

“Saix.”

He knew that voice as well as he knew his master’s. He turned, bowing low to the man in the doorway. “My Lord Ansem.”

“I require you to wait on us at dinner tonight,” Ansem said.

“Yes, my Lord Ansem.” It was an unusual request, but not unprecedented. Saix could perform any duty his owner or master required of him. Learning quickly had been a survival skill since he’d been captured and sold.

Lea, however, had never met an order he wouldn’t question, even if the order wasn’t for him. “Why Saix? Why not Xehanort?”

“Xehanort is old,” Ansem said. He sounded old himself, just then. But he sounded much younger when he told Saix, “You will be representing my household. Do not disappoint me.”

Saix didn’t straighten from his bow. “Yes, my Lord Ansem.”

“That was weird,” Lea said when his father had left. “What’s he want  _ you _ to wait on us for? What’s wrong with Xehanort being old?”

Saix sighed. Lea wouldn’t mind if he sat down, but he stayed standing, merely straightened and turned back to face his master. “Disneyland has retirement, Master,” he said. “Adults over a given age do not work.”

“Really?” Lea sounded fascinated. “What do they do?”

“I don’t know, Master.”

“Wait a second.” Lea was frowning now, Saix could hear it in his voice. “How come you know that and I don’t?”

Saix didn’t smile. “I heard it in your lessons, Master.”

“Oh.” There was a sheepish grin in Lea’s voice now. “Yeah, I guess I must’ve spaced out that time.”

“As you say, Master.”

Given the choice, Saix would not have chosen Lea as the next King of Radiant Garden. Ienzo was much more thoughtful. Lea wanted to be left alone to slack and to run around like he was still sixteen. He didn’t take responsibility seriously. One day it would get him killed, if he wasn’t careful.

For now, though, Saix had to get his master changed into dinner clothes. Something else Lea would complain about. He sighed to himself.

~

Saix left Lea’s side when the prince was ready for dinner, heading down to the kitchen to see what needed done. Mrs. Potts was there already, ordering the paid cooks about like she didn’t notice the choke collar on her neck. She of all people could get away with that. White-haired and deadly with a knife, she knew the kitchen and the tastes of the castle’s inhabitants better than anyone.

“Saix,” she said briskly. “Good, you’re here. Come.”

He went to her. From Mrs. Potts, he didn’t even mind taking orders. At least he could look  _ her  _ in the eye.

“Now,” Mrs. Potts said, handing him a pitcher of wine. “The kings won’t want to be tipsy while they discuss politics, so make sure to dilute the wine a fair bit. Lea’s as well--light knows we don’t need  _ him _ drunk in front of foreign royals.”

Saix allowed himself to smile. He’d seen Lea drunk before. He’d once cast a forbidden Cure spell to fix his master’s hangover, only to make him stop whining about it. Lea was oddly a lightweight for someone of his size.

“The King didn’t bring his queen,” Mrs. Potts said. “Only his bodyguard and magician, I suppose they serve him or--oh, never mind.  _ They’ll  _ take dinner with the servants. It’ll only be the three royals in the room.”

He nodded. It was a natural thing for him to be quiet when someone hadn’t asked him a question. Or at the very least it was habit bought by thirteen years’ servitude.

“Make sure not to--you there, get that off the heat!”

The cook scurried to do what Mrs. Potts said, and Saix relaxed. He’d served the family at dinner before. Nothing was different about this.

He washed his hands, memorizing what Mrs. Potts told him about the dinner itself. It was more elaborate than what the family typically ate, but that was only to be expected. Dinners with foreign royals were something of a dance, a show to impress the other country. How impressed the King of Disneyland would be being waited on by a twice-runaway slave, remained to be seen.

Too soon, the royals were being seated and Saix was sent to bring wine to the table.

He paused in the doorway, quickly memorizing the seating arrangement. Ansem was at the head of the table, naturally, with Mickey to his left and Lea to his right. Saix cast his eyes to the ground and went to serve the wine.

“Honestly, Ansem,” Mickey said as Saix poured his wine, “you don’t have a servant who could do this?”

“My household employs paid labor for the more skilled jobs,” Ansem replied. “Unskilled labor is all done by slaves.”

“Even unskilled laborers deserve compensation,” Mickey said.

Saix pressed his lips together, keeping his head down where no one could see his expression as he served Ansem, then Lea. He diluted the wine with the water pitcher on the table. This was not a conversation he wished to be trapped in the middle of. Ansem’s order not to disappoint him loomed large.

Saix stepped to the back wall while the royals argued, well within earshot. This turned out to be a mistake.

“You,” Mickey said abruptly. “What’s your name?”

Saix glanced up enough to see the king’s finger pointed at him. He glanced at his owner, then bowed, hands at his sides. “My name is Saix, Your Majesty.”

Mickey made an unhappy, almost disgusted sound. “No. Your real name.”

He didn’t look up. “My name is Saix, Your Majesty,” he repeated. “That has been my name for thirteen years.”

“Oh, that’s not the  _ point! _ What name did your parents give you?”

“Cousin,” Ansem said, sharpness entering his voice. “Please do not interrogate my staff.”

“Your staff? He’s your  _ slave, _ Ansem. He didn’t have a choice! You,” Mickey said, turning back to Saix. “You ran away twice, correct?”

His hands  _ did not _ twitch toward the scar. Nor did he rise from his bow. “I did, Your Majesty.”

“And you would run again, but three times means death. Isn’t that right?”

“That is  _ enough, _ cousin,” Ansem said sharply.

Saix closed his eyes, took a breath. He had no love for the institution of slavery, nor for Ansem himself. But he could not let this lie. For his own sake, if nothing else, he needed this dinner to go well for his owner and master.

He sank to one knee, head down, hand over his heart. “My Lord Ansem,” he said. “With your permission, I would like to answer.”

Ansem was silent for a moment. Saix wondered if he would be in trouble later for interrupting. Ansem would hardly punish him in front of the infamously anti-slavery king, but he might later, if Saix didn’t play this right.

“Answer,” Ansem said, a warning in his voice.

“Thank you, my Lord Ansem.” He stayed where he was. “Your Majesty is mistaken. A slave who would run away, even for the first time, is not afraid of death.”

“What do you mean?” Mickey asked.

“The law only  _ requires _ that a three-time runaway be put to death, Your Majesty,” he said. “But a master may kill a slave for running away once.”

“Ansem!” Mickey said, horror seeping into his voice.

Saix pushed on. If he didn’t finish his thought now, he would be punished, for making the king think worse of slavery than he already did. “My apologies, Your Majesty. The point I wish to make is that--I do not refrain from running because I am afraid to die. I stay because there is nowhere else I would rather be.”

He kept his heartache out of his voice, bottled it up in the corner of himself where no one, not even Ansem, could touch him.  _ Anymore, _ was the ending to that sentence. There was nowhere else he would rather be  _ anymore. _

“You were born free, is that not correct?”

“It is, Your Majesty.”

“And you would rather be a slave?”

Did the king not realize what he was doing? Or did he think Saix so foolish as to say he would rather be free in front of his owner, who already thought him untamable?

“I would rather be here, Your Majesty,” he repeated firmly. That at least was true. He would rather be here than anywhere else he had been since he’d been captured thirteen years ago.

“Cousin,” Ansem said. “I must insist you do not interrogate him further. He has a job to do, and we have much to discuss.”

Saix could hear the exasperated sigh Mickey didn’t let out. “Yes, all right. Though I can see we haven’t progressed since the last time we spoke.”

~

“So what is your name?”

Saix glanced over at Lea without raising his head. If Lea hadn’t had his eyes on Saix’s, he’d have missed it completely.

“My name is Saix, Master,” the slave responded, dimming the lamp beside Lea’s bed.

“Yeah, but--” He huffed a sigh. “That’s not the name you were born with, right? Because you were captured, not bred.”

Saix sighed, scratching the scar on his face with a thumbnail. “May I speak freely, Master?”

“‘Course you can,” Lea said, surprised to hear him ask. Saix was--different lately. Wasn’t he? Lea remembered seeing sparks of life more often, but--not anymore.

“My name is Saix, Master,” the slave said. “It will be my name until I die. There’s no point to telling you what name I had at birth, because it isn’t my name anymore.”

With that, he turned away, unrolling the bedroll he slept in at the foot of Lea’s bed. Lea sighed, tucking his hands behind his head and staring at the ceiling.

When he’d gotten Saix, they’d been boys. And the boy Saix had never been so--so perfectly obedient. Such a perfect  _ slave. _ He’d had a spark in him, a set to his jaw that said he’d never be fully broken. Lea had loved that, loved that his attendant was a wild thing, loved that he behaved for  _ Lea _ of all people. When had that changed?

He couldn’t remember. For so long, he hadn’t worried about it--and now that he was worried, he couldn’t think of it. He was a terrible master.

(He was a terrible friend.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to update last week until it was almost time to update again, so sorry about the two-week gap. But here you go!

_ Eight years ago _

_ The horses raced across the ground, grass flying under their hooves. Lea’s stallion was fast, but Saix’s mare was nimble, never slowing. She leapt ahead at the last moment before Saix pulled on the reins and slowed her to a halt. _

_ Lea threw his scarf at Saix. “You know,” he said, “it’s very rude to beat your master in a race.” _

_ Saix laughed. “Then my master should learn to keep up.” _

~

Present day

Saix awoke to the sound of the door opening.

“Saix,” said a voice. “Get dressed and come to the front hall. Lord Ansem requires you.”

The room was still dark, shuttered against the creeping light of dawn, but he still kept his emotion from his face. Ansem had not punished him last night for interrupting, nor for wielding sword and magic in Lea’s defense. He’d forgiven Saix the latter offense. Saix was still waiting for the verdict on the former.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he told Xehanort, getting to his feet.

“Do better than that,” Xehanort warned, closing the door.

Saix dressed quickly, without turning on a light. He wouldn’t wake Lea if he didn’t have to. He slipped out the door, tying his hair back into a braid as he headed to the front hall.

Xehanort was there along with Ansem. The old man had been the king’s attendant since he’d been a young man, the same age Lea had been when Ansem bought him Saix. After so many years, Xehanort had the king’s ear in everything he did. He was his adviser in all but name.

He was, however, not Saix’s master. Saix bowed to Ansem, hands pressed together in front of his chest. “My Lord Ansem. You summoned me.”

“So I did.” There was a pause, which Saix tried not to read into. After thirteen years, it still drove him insane to be unable to look at faces and read what people were thinking. “Come, Saix,” Ansem said, turning. “Xehanort, you have your duties.”

“Yes, Lord Ansem,” Xehanort murmured, turning away.

Saix followed his owner, a step behind him, feet making no sound on the wooden floors.

“You worried me yesterday, Saix,” Ansem said. “Asking to speak to my cousin.”

“I apologize, my Lord Ansem,” Saix replied. So. He was in trouble for that after all. “I meant only to reassure him.”

“You spoke well,” Ansem said. “Not even I would suspect how unbroken you were when I purchased you.”

“Thank you, my Lord Ansem,” Saix replied.  _ Broken. _ How he hated the word, as though he were a horse brought to bridle. But it was what his owner desired him to be, and being it had kept him safe and warm and fed for ten years. Or at least, for the years most recent.

He shoved that thought away, into the corner of his heart where he kept what was left of who he’d been before. There was no point to thinking of it.

“And you saved my children’s lives,” Ansem added. “Such an action should be rewarded.”

He didn’t answer this time. Ansem wasn’t asking for an apology, nor giving him an order. He wouldn’t expect a response.

Ansem came to a halt. Saix stopped a step behind him, looking up enough to see where they were.

Confusion swirled through him. They were in one of the inner courtyards--the one where the guards trained. Braig and Aeleus were warming up in one corner already. Aeleus jogged over when he saw them.

“Lord Ansem?” he asked. “He’s ready?”

Ansem nodded, beckoning to Saix. “You acquitted yourself well against an assassin,” he said. “I would see you fight.”

Saix took a step toward Aeleus, jaw locked to prevent his confusion escaping him. He didn’t need to understand an order to follow it.

“You will spar with Aeleus,” Ansem said. “You are not to use magic.”

“As you command, my Lord Ansem,” Saix said. This--still didn’t make sense. He was forbidden to wield a weapon, to fight in any way. That one command had followed him for ten years. But now--

Ansem wanted something from him, something he could only get if Saix fought. Whatever it was, he would have it. Saix had long given up on rebellion.

Aeleus showed him to a ring drawn on the ground in chalk. “Ready?” he asked, taking a stance opposite him.

Saix studied him.  _ Classic Earth posture, _ he thought. Not that it was surprising, given Aeleus’s fighting style and preferred weapon.

Ansem wanted to see him fight.

He lifted his arms, facing Aeleus fully, left foot slightly forward. Against Earth, the element that would not be moved, he would use air.

Ansem’s voice echoed. “Begin.”

Aeleus moved immediately, crossing the short distance in a lunging punch. Saix moved, reflexes he’d thought dead kicking in.

He stepped to the right, inside Aeleus’s punch, close to his body. His right arm scooped under Aeleus’s back arm, his foot stepped in front of Aeleus’s center line--

Aeleus toppled, but he was quick for a man his size. He rolled and came back to his feet, turning toward Saix again.

Saix let Aeleus drive the fight, kept to defending himself. He knocked Aeleus off his balance several more times, but the man kept coming. He was an elephant, and if rumors were to be believed, he had Earth magic in his veins that let him build his stamina using the ground under his feet. Saix couldn’t outlast him--but he remained unconvinced he was really meant to fight.

“You’re going easy on me,” Aeleus said as he got to his feet for the dozenth time.

“So are you,” Saix replied, eyes on the man’s chest.

Aeleus shook his head. “You won’t win like that.”

“Am I meant to?” Saix asked, eyes flicking toward his owner and then back to Aeleus.

“You’re meant to show him how you fight,” Aeleus said. “How you fought  _ her. _ ”

He looked again toward his owner, a split second too long. When he looked back, it was too late to block the punch. He staggered, absorbing some of the blow.

He was off balance now, and Aeleus didn’t give him a chance to catch his breath. He moved in, a rapid series of strikes and kicks aimed at the vulnerable parts of Saix’s torso.

Saix struggled. He managed to block some, divert some to less sensitive areas, but he couldn’t get the rhythm back, couldn’t take Aeleus’s balance. Aeleus’s foot hooked his ankle and yanked, and he fell.

He hit the ground hard, breath whooshing out of him. He waited for the assault to continue, but nothing came. Instead, footsteps reached his ears.

“You disappoint me, Saix.”

His owner’s voice. He would respond to that voice in much worse shape than he was then. He rolled up to his hands and knees, turning toward Ansem. “I apologize, my Lord Ansem,” he said, bowing so that his forehead touched the dirt.

“I do not want an apology, Saix,” Ansem said sharply. “I want to see you fight. Fight Aeleus as you would if he were attacking my son.”

That--changed things. That suggested a purpose to the order, a purpose that wasn’t to put Saix in harm’s way as punishment for speaking out last night. “As you command, my Lord Ansem,” he said, not lifting his head.

“Again,” Ansem ordered, footsteps retreating.

Ansem hadn’t said he could heal, so he didn’t. He just got to his feet and faced Aeleus again.

_ Fight Aeleus as you would if he were attacking my son. _

His eyes sharpened on the muscles of Aeleus’s torso, watching for movement. This time, he wouldn’t hold back.

Wind wouldn’t do for this. He needed fire.

Aeleus moved in. Saix met him halfway, light on the balls of his feet, weight forward. Aeleus started to aim a punch at him; Saix batted it to the side so that it passed between his ear and shoulder, slamming his other hand forward into Aeleus’s face. The man stumbled, more out of surprise than pain.

This time, Saix pressed his advantage. He stepped forward, behind Aeleus, the hand on the bigger man’s face pushing him along with him. Saix crouched, bringing his knee up into Aeleus’s spine, then stomping down into Aeleus’s knee.

Aeleus fell, but he was quick. The arm Saix had trapped whipped back, nailing him in the back of the head with its elbow. Saix staggered and toppled over Aeleus, rolling quickly back up to his feet.

“Better,” Aeleus said, getting to his feet and resuming his stance.

Saix moved in, jabbing at Aeleus’s shoulder. Aeleus blocked and aimed his own punch at Saix’s gut.

Saix moved forward, arm out, jamming Aeleus’s arm back. He didn’t give the man a chance to pull away, jabbed two punches into the join of hip and thigh and backed away, resuming his original place. If Aeleus were attacking his master, he would put himself between them, a human shield.

The battle flowed differently now. Saix let himself fight, let the energy under his skin press toward the surface. Aeleus was tireless, but Saix was quick and determined. He hadn’t been allowed to fight in ten years. He wouldn’t give up so easily now.

Finally, Aeleus aimed another punch at him, and this time he missed his chance to counter when Saix blocked. Saix had him on the ground, arm twisted up behind him, his own knee in Aeleus’s back.

“Yield,” he hissed.

Aeleus laughed. “I yield. You’re strong, for a slave.”

He stood and backed away, turning to face his owner, eyes down.

“Better,” Ansem said. Once again he came closer. “Now, we will do things differently.”

He took up a place just outside the circle, Saix turning to face him. “Aeleus will attack me,” he said. “You will defend me.”

“As you command, my Lord Ansem,” Saix said. This--was a new wrinkle. He’d never been trained to defend another person. He wasn’t sure he liked where this “demonstration” was going. But if his owner ordered it, he would continue.

He turned back to Aeleus, lifting his eyes as the man got to his feet and dusted himself off. Strictly speaking a slave should never make eye contact with a freeman, but fighting was best done with eyes on the opponent’s chest anyway. He watched Aeleus, careful.

Aeleus charged him, head low, making to tackle him. Saix braced himself, feet apart. If Aeleus was fire, he would be earth.

Aeleus slammed into Saix, but Saix wouldn’t move unless he lifted him. In the moment it took the bigger man to manage that, Saix lifted his knee toward his face. Aeleus blocked with his hand, and Saix brought his elbow down on the back of his head. Aeleus fell, rolled to the side and back to his feet.

Aeleus circled. Saix watched him--and Aeleus lunged for Ansem. Stupid. Saix had forgotten the goal.

He moved between them, barely in time to stop Aeleus reaching his owner. Ansem hadn’t moved. Saix doubted Aeleus would have laid a hand on him, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was following the orders he’d been given.

He drove a punch into Aeleus’s solar plexus. It was like hitting a wall, but even a wall had to move when Saix put all his weight and muscle behind it. The step back was all he needed to bring up a kick into the join of Aeleus’s hip and thigh. Now the man staggered back a few steps, giving Saix room to bring the fight away from his owner.

He pressed in closer, darting punches at Aeleus’s shoulders and throat. Aeleus blocked most, absorbed the rest, then came in with a blow too fast for Saix to dodge that sent him reeling. Through the spot in his eyes, he saw Aeleus approaching Ansem.

He roared, a sound he didn’t recognize from his own throat, and lunged, closing his arms around Aeleus’s legs and bringing him to the ground. Aeleus kicked at him, rolling over in his grip. Saix hopped to his feet and circled him, kicking at his ribs and putting himself once again between his opponent and his owner.

“Enough.”

The word snapped Saix back to himself. He whirled to face Ansem, pressing his hands together and bowing low.

“Saix,” Ansem said. “I am satisfied. You will be my son’s bodyguard, in addition to your normal duties.”

Reality seemed to spin away from him for a minute, leaving him hanging alone in the universe in front of his owner.  _ Bodyguard? _ To be a bodyguard meant fighting, meant-- _ training _ . It meant--

“As you command, my Lord Ansem,” he said. Ever obedient. Ever  _ broken. _

Aeleus clapped him on the back, so sudden he almost stumbled. “You’ll be training with us in the morning,” he said.

“Every morning,” Ansem agreed. “At this hour, before my son rises. You will then report back to him and resume your duties as normal.”

“As you command, my Lord Ansem,” he said again.

“What is your weapon?” Aeleus asked him.

He thought back to the weapon that the raiders had taken from him. It was good that his hands were already pressed together, or they would have clenched into fists. “A claymore.”

~

“Saix.”

The voice--familiar already, but nowhere near his master’s--stopped him on his path back to his master’s side. He turned, already knowing he’d see the young King Mickey. He bowed, hands at his sides. “Your Majesty.”

“Come in here,” Mickey said urgently, pushing open the door he’d poked his head out of.

Dread snuck past Saix’s defenses. The conversation from last night’s dinner replayed itself in his head. But a slave had to serve his master’s guests as well as his master. “As Your Majesty commands,” he said, following the young king into the room, one of the mostly-unused social rooms that littered the ground floor.

“I want to buy you,” Mickey said.

Saix’s head jerked up before he could catch himself. He saw Mickey’s face, dark and serious, before he looked back down. “Your Majesty?” he asked.

“Look at me, please, Saix.”

Once--only once--his owner had given him the same order. It hadn’t gone well. But Mickey was different. Mickey--he didn’t believe in slavery.

Saix looked up.

Mickey looked as serious as Saix had seen anyone look since he’d been taken. “You’re unhappy,” the king said. “I know I won’t make any headway with Ansem. He’s too comfortable the way he lives now. But I could save you. Buy you and set you free.”

The idea made Saix dizzy, and he wasn’t sure if it was fear or a sudden, dangerous surge of hope that made him feel that way. He lifted a hand, running his fingertips over the scar on his face. It grounded him.

“Begging Your Majesty’s pardon,” he said. “But I do not wish to be sold.”

“Not sold to another master,” Mickey said, like it made a difference. “I would buy you and release you immediately.”

He let his hand fall back to his side. Then, on impulse, he let himself drop to one knee, lowering his head.

“May I speak freely, Your Majesty?” he asked.

“Please get up,” Mickey said. “Saix, I’m not treating you as a slave, please don’t act like one.”

He would not. He would not be a pawn in this king’s crusade, any more than he would be his master’s outlet for rebellion. There was too much at stake for that. He would play this game, but he would make his own rules. He would satisfy his owner at the cost of himself, as he had for six years.

“If you are not treating me as a slave, Your Majesty, may I speak freely?” he asked.

“Of course you can!”

“The freedom you speak of is worthless to one such as me, Your Majesty,” he said. “A twice-runaway is safe only at his master’s side. If I did not have a collar, I would be killed without trial.”

“You would be safe in Disneyland,” Mickey protested.

“I would be bound, Your Majesty,” Saix corrected him. “Bound not to a person, as I am now, but to a country that is not mine. I would rather be bound here.”

“You can’t mean that!”

“I do, Your Majesty,” he said firmly. “I do not wish to be sold. Not even into freedom.”

“But you would be  _ free. _ ”

“It is not a freedom I desire, Your Majesty. I beg of you, do not make me a piece in your crusade.”

Mickey was silent, and Saix took the chance. “May I go, Your Majesty? My master will be wondering where I am.”

Mickey sighed. “Yes,” he said. “You can go. I’m sorry for delaying you.”

Saix stood, bowed (hands at his sides), and left.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am TERRIBLE at remembering it's Friday and Friday means updates. Have two chapters to make up for it. I've also finished plotting this out chapter by chapter and it'll be either fifteen or sixteen chapters depending how the endgame plays out. I'm a little over halfway done with it.

_ Seven years ago _

_ “Saix, come on! Wake up!” _

_ The slave groaned, dragging the pillow Lea threw at him over his head. “It’s before dawn, Master. Why do I have to get up?” _

_ “Because I’m your master and I said so.” _

_ “Then beat me,” Saix suggested. _

_ Lea stomped his foot. “Saix, I’m not gonna--just get up, will you? I wanna see Zack. He’s leaving town today.” _

_ Saix groaned again but let the pillow fall from his eyes. _

~

Present day

The best thing that could be said about the foreign king was that he would be gone soon.

He hadn’t attempted to corner Saix again, but every night as Saix waited on them at dinner, Mickey would try to engage him in conversation. Saix would not be baited. He stayed quiet, answering any questions with “Yes, Your Majesty” or “No, Your Majesty.” He kept his eyes on the ground, didn’t ask permission to address or engage with the king. The king was on a crusade, determined to make some positive impact on Radiant Garden before he left. Saix would not be his tool for doing so.

The morning before the king was to leave, Saix made his way to the courtyard to train with the guards. He’d sparred with them every day, bringing rusty skills back to sharpness. It was a thrill to be allowed to fight again, to be given a sword like his own. He wasn’t allowed to carry it within the castle walls, but he'd expected that. He wasn’t allowed to use magic either. He’d expected that too. His owner still believed he would try to run. That was fine. Saix would prove him wrong.

Even if it was itching at him now, the desire he’d suppressed for ten years. The king was driving him mad with his looks and his questions and his pointed references to the benefits of Disneyland’s way of doing things.

_ Stop that, _ he ordered himself when he caught himself looking out every window on his way back to his master.  _ It’s worthless to dream. _

Worse than worthless. It hurt to dream, hurt to hope. He knew, he’d always known, that the scar on his face meant he could never go home. Even if he were freed, he would always look like a runaway slave. There were countries, his own included, that would put him to death merely for having the scar and not a collar.

Not, strictly speaking, that Agrabah was his country. His people were desert tribesmen, but treaties meant that they had the protection of Agrabah’s laws, so long as they ostensibly followed them themselves. He’d told Lea that his homeland was Agrabah for simplicity’s sake. He wasn’t sure Lea knew about the Bazhir anyway.

When he got back to Lea’s room, it was later than normal. Lea was already dressed.

Saix slipped inside, bowing low with his hands pressed together. “Forgive me, Master,” he said.

“Nah, nothing to forgive.” Lea sounded cheerful. Saix straightened from his bow, closing the door behind him. “I’m just glad you get to fight again. I know you missed it.”

Some of his surprise must have shown on his face, because Lea laughed. “Dude, I  _ saw _ you fighting that bitch,” he said. “You were  _ awesome. _ ”

Saix would have glared if it hadn’t been his master. “I told you to stay down, Master,” he said reprovingly. “You could have been shot.”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t,” Lea retorted. “Because you were there. Go get cleaned up, you look like hell.”

He pressed his hands together again, bowing. “As my master commands,” he said. He fetched the clothes he wore most of the day and retreated to Lea’s washroom to get the worst of the dirt off him.

Most slaves wore the colors of Ansem’s house, red and purple. Lea had decided some time ago that Saix was to wear blue instead. Saix had never questioned it, but right now he appreciated it. One less reminder that he was property.

He paused, leaning his forehead against the door. He was doing it again.

It had been six years since he’d been given the set of orders that ruled his life. Ten years since he’d been bought as Lea’s attendant. Thirteen years since his tribe had been raided, him and his sister sold off as slaves. He should be over this by now. He’d had his chances, and he’d gotten caught both times. It was done. He was owned, and he would stay owned for as long as he lived. He was a slave, and it was better to be a slave here than anywhere else he’d been, so there was no point in hoping for better.

He slipped out of the washroom, bowing to his master and waiting for orders.

“So Selphie is sick,” Lea announced. “Which means we’re off lessons.”

“What do you plan to do instead, Master?”

Lea sighed. “Well, I  _ was _ planning to go riding, but Dad said no. We’re still not allowed to leave the castle grounds. So I sent a messenger to Kairi’s inviting her over.”

Saix straightened, raising an eyebrow at his master. “You think my Lord Ansem will approve?”

Something flickered across Lea’s face, some combination of embarrassment and something like pride. Abruptly Saix realized he’d been looking his master in the face, and quickly looked down.

“I think he’ll let Ienzo get away with anything,” Lea said. “Anyway, that gives us time to escape.”

Alarm bells went off in Saix’s head. “Escape, Master?”

Lea grinned. “We’re sneaking out.”

Saix, for once, took the risk and looked his master full in the face. “You’re serious,” he said.

“Couldn’t be more serious if I tried.” Lea clapped Saix on the shoulder. “Come on. We haven’t gone out in  _ ages. _ ”

In six years, actually. And if Saix had anything to say about it, it would be another six years before they did again.

~

Saix seemed different today. More like himself, the old self he’d been when they first got him. The slave who said all the right things but wasn’t afraid to look Lea in the eyes. Lea couldn’t help being glad of it. He’d  _ missed _ this Saix.

Ienzo was in the small dining room when they got there, chattering away to Roxas in sign language. Lea had never thought it entirely fair that Ienzo had an  attendant already, when he was so much younger than Lea had been when he’d gotten Saix. He understood, of course. Ienzo needed someone at his side so he could communicate with people outside his family.

Lea flopped into a chair, catching Ienzo’s attention. “I invited Kairi over,” he said. “It’s not fair if I get off lessons and you don’t.”

Ienzo’s eye widened and he signed rapid-fire. Lea understood most of it, but he was still glad when Roxas translated. “The young master asks if your father approved of this.”

Lea shrugged. “I didn’t ask. But I mean, you’ve been as cooped up as I have. Seemed like you should have some fun.”

Saix set a plate in front of him and a mug of coffee beside it. “Thanks,” Lea said, grinning up at him. He managed to catch Saix’s eye before the slave looked away.

“May I be excused a moment, Master?” Saix asked. “I have something I need to take care of.”

“Yeah, sure.” Lea was surprised; Saix rarely left his side. Even with his new training, he was usually back before Lea was out of bed.

“Thank you, Master.” He bowed, hands pressed together in front of him, and left while Lea tried to remember when he’d started doing that.

“The young master suggests you should tell your father before Kairi arrives,” Roxas said. “He won’t be happy if he finds a car approaching unannounced.”

“Right,” Lea muttered, scratching his head. How would he go about telling Ansem…?

He was distracted from this line of thought by his father's voice.

“Lea.”

Lea turned his head and found Ansem standing in the doorway, Saix a shadow behind him. His eyes widened. “Dad! I was just coming to talk to you.”

“As I was coming to talk to you.” Ansem folded his arms, sending a look at Ienzo and Roxas. “Outside, I think.”

“R-right.” Lea shot Saix a questioning look, but his attendant didn’t meet his eyes as Lea followed his adoptive father into the hallway.

Ansem took them several steps away from the door, out of earshot should Ienzo and the others try to listen in. Then he turned to face him. “You seem aimless today,” he said. “I have decided. Since you invited Kairi to see Ienzo, you will supervise them.”

Lea’s eyes widened. “What--?” Was Ansem serious? Was he that upset that Lea had invited Kairi without asking?

“You do not take your duties seriously,” Ansem said. He was scowling, faint but definitely there. “You are heir to Radiant Garden. You must learn responsibility. Sneaking out into the city, particularly after an attempt on my life and your own, is not responsible.”

It felt like his world had shattered. “Saix  _ told you? _ ”

“He did as you should have done,” Ansem said. “Now, return to your meal. Kairi will be here in an hour.”

He left, leaving Lea to stew in his sudden fury. Saix--that  _ bastard _ \--

“Saix!” he yelled.

The door opened. He didn’t hear footsteps, but he heard the slave’s voice. “You called me, Master?”

Lea whirled on him. Saix at least seemed to know he was in trouble. He hadn’t bowed, had gone straight to one knee, hand over his heart.

“You  _ bastard, _ ” Lea hissed. “You told my  _ dad _ on me? I thought you were  _ mine. _ ”

“I am your attendant, Master,” Saix said, voice much quieter than Lea’s.

“Yeah?” He advanced on the kneeling figure until he was standing right over him, yelling. “Then what the hell was that about?”

“You are my master,” Saix said. “But your father is my owner. His orders supercede yours.”

Lea was shaking. He’d never been so angry in his life. Saix had--had--

“So he told you to,” he said flatly. “And you told him.”

“Yes, Master.”

Lea wanted to kick him. He almost did--no one would stop him beating his own slave. But--but it was  _ Saix. _

“I don’t get it,” he said, voice cracking. “We used to--to be friends. You used to  _ help _ me sneak out.”

“I did, Master,” Saix said quietly.

He dragged shaking fingers through his hair. His father had turned his own attendant against him.

“May I speak, Master?”

“Go ahead.” There was no more anger in his voice. He’d burned it all up. Now he just felt empty.

Saix shifted, pressing hands and forehead to the floor. “I beg your forgiveness, Master,” he said. “My lord Ansem did order me to tell him, but I--I went because I feared for your safety, if we should leave the castle.” He paused. “And my own, if I did not. I am sorry, Master.”

Lea sighed, shoulders slumping as he stared at Saix. He wasn’t being fair, he knew that. Saix had done what he was supposed to. It wasn’t his fault Lea had given him an order he couldn’t follow through on.

“You’re forgiven,” he said finally. “Get up.”

Saix got to his feet, eyes still on the ground.

Lea scuffed a hand through his hair. “Well,” he said with forced cheer. “At least Kairi is coming over after all. Ienzo will be happy about that.”

Saix bowed. “As you say, Master.”

Lea brushed past him, headed back to eat his breakfast. “Come on, Saix. Looks like we’re babysitting today.”

~

Being purchased by the King of Radiant Garden meant Saix had spent a long time as a piece in other people’s games. Ansem had bought him to prove to his son he couldn’t be broken. Lea had made him into his partner in crime. And now along came Mickey, seeming so different from the royals Saix was used to but still hell bent on using Saix to pursue his own cause. The fact that the cause might be in Saix’s interests didn’t matter. Saix would not let another king use him as a pawn.

He kept his eyes on the table as he served the royals wine that night, taking a certain vindictive pleasure in the fact that he knew Mickey wanted eye contact from him. He diluted the wine as he always did and retreated to the wall, well within earshot. His master and owner would protect him should the foreign king try to draw him into another game of words. He made himself be glad of that. He didn’t want Mickey to ask him yet again to condemn his master and owner in front of them. Surely the king had to realize how much trouble Saix would be in if he did. Even a paid servant would hesitate to do such a thing for fear of being let go. Penalties were much more severe for a slave.

“A toast, cousin,” Ansem said, lifting his glass to Mickey. “To maintaining our friendship, no matter the differences between us.”

Mickey raised his own glass. “I’ll drink to that,” he said cheerfully.

Saix looked up through his lashes, finding his master. Lea rarely spoke during these dinners. Now, his eyes were on Saix, not on the royals beside him. He smiled when he saw Saix looking back. Saix quickly averted his eyes back to the ground.

“I’d like to talk to you, Ansem,” Mickey said. “I know you won’t think of abolishing slavery--”

“Even were I to think of it,” Ansem said smoothly, “it would be impossible, cousin. My power is not so absolute as yours, and my nobles would fight with all they have to keep their slaves.”

“Yes,” Mickey agreed. “However. I believe I might have a compromise. I would like to buy some of your slaves.”

Saix looked up suddenly, then forced his eyes back down. His heart hammered in his chest. No.  _ No. _ He didn’t want this. He  _ wouldn’t  _ be a pawn in this king’s crusade.

“‘Buy’ some of my slaves,” Ansem repeated. Saix glanced up, to find his owner swirling his wine, deep in thought. “To set them free, you mean.”

“Yes.” Mickey didn’t try to hide it. “I want to buy some of your slaves--starting with Saix.”

Saix ducked his head quickly in case his owner had looked at him.  _ No. _ Why could this king not leave well enough alone? Saix’s life had been--it had been tolerable. He’d been a slave, but he’d been  _ fine. _

“I’m afraid that is impossible, cousin,” Ansem said. There was a warning in his voice, a warning only Saix was trained to hear.

“I’ll pay you,” Mickey argued. “Whatever you paid for him--”

“You misunderstand,” Ansem cut in. “My son relies on Saix as his attendant.”

“If he relies on him so much, why don’t you pay him?”

“Cousin.” The warning in Ansem’s voice was no longer meant only for Saix. “I have told you Radiant Garden’s stance. You have agreed to abide by it. In any case, Saix is not for sale, nor is any other slave in these walls.”

“Because you don’t want them set free,” Mickey said.

“Because we rely on them,” Ansem said, too patient by far. “My younger son Ienzo relies on his interpreter. Lea relies on his attendant. We rely on our cook, our cleaners. New additions to this household are rare, cousin. Early departures even more so. My slaves are not for sale. I cannot stop you going to an auction and buying all the slaves you like, but you will not have mine.”

There was a tense silence. It was all Saix could do to keep his eyes on the ground.

“My household, slave and free, is well cared for,” Ansem said, much more gentle now. “They are fed well and sleep warm. I daresay more can be said for my slaves than for many of your paid laborers.”

“But they are still slaves,” Mickey said. “They would rather be free.”

He could feel his owner’s gaze on him for one dizzying moment. He wanted to fall to his knees, but Mickey wouldn’t approve.

“Anyone would rather be free,” Mickey said into the silence. “Even Saix.”

Saix grabbed hold of his fear, shoving it into the corner of himself where he kept everything else he could not afford to think or feel.

“Saix,” Ansem said, raising his voice. “Come.”

“As you command, my Lord Ansem,” he murmured, crossing the space to stand beside his owner.

“My cousin believes you would rather be free,” Ansem said. “Is this so?”

Saix bowed to his owner, hands pressed together in front of him. “I would rather be here, my Lord Ansem,” he said.

“You would rather be my slave than free.”

“Yes, my Lord Ansem.”

“That will be all.”

Saix bowed again and retreated to his post.

“Are you satisfied?” Ansem asked.

“ _ You’re _ asking him,” Mickey argued. “When I asked him, he spoke differently.”

Saix would have given anything for Mickey not to have said that. He hadn’t.  _ He hadn’t _ spoken differently.

“When did you speak to him, cousin?’ Ansem asked.

“When--”

Whatever Mickey might have said was interrupted by Lea knocking over his wineglass, spilling wine all over Mickey’s plate. He yelped, getting to his feet.

Saix was already there, lifting the foreign king’s plate out of the way, righting the glass. He took his master’s napkin to soak up the worst of the spill, then spread a layer of salt over the wine to soak up the rest.

“Sorry,” Lea said sheepishly. “My bad.”

Saix didn’t answer, only took Mickey’s plate to get him a new one. The king himself was clear of wine, at least.

Ansem sighed as Saix retreated from the room. “That was enough of that line of conversation anyway.”

To Saix’s undying relief, dinner was uneventful after that. He wasn’t surprised, didn’t even pretend to be surprised, when Ansem dismissed Lea to follow Mickey but stayed behind himself. Saix stayed where he was. If he was lucky, his owner would give him the chance to explain.

“Saix. Come.”

“As you command, my Lord Ansem.” Ansem hadn’t stood to leave, which gave Saix hope. Ansem never beat his own slaves. If he wanted Saix punished, he would take him to the courtyard and have one of the guards do it. But for now, he seemed--it seemed Saix would get that chance.

He went to his owner’s side, dropping to hands and knees, pressing his forehead to the ground. Total submission. The perfect slave.

“When did you speak to my cousin?” Ansem asked.

“The day you appointed me to be my master’s bodyguard, my Lord Ansem,” Saix replied. “He asked to speak to me on my way back to my master’s rooms.”

“And you did not report this to me.”

“No, my Lord Ansem.”

Ansem was silent, giving Saix time to reflect on his mistake. Speaking to his owner’s guest without his owner present was inappropriate, but in most cases not a mistake worth punishing. When the guest was Mickey of Disneyland… that might be a different matter. He should have at least told his owner of the conversation, but he’d immediately been swept up in his whirlwind master.

“What did you say to my cousin?” Ansem asked at last. “Tell me the words you used to make him think you would want him to buy you from me.”

He tried to remember the conversation, the words that had passed between them. “He declared his intention to buy me, my Lord Ansem,” he said. “I told him I did not wish to be sold. That--I would rather be bound to you than to his country, that--” His mind spun. “That the freedom he offered was not one I desire.”

Ansem sighed, the chair creaking as he sat back. “And that is all you said to him.”

“As nearly as I remember it, my Lord Ansem.” He’d said many things, bent his words back on themselves to say what Ansem would want him to say. The words tasted like ash in his mouth, repeating them back to his owner.

Ansem stood up. Saix tensed, but did not move. His owner, however, didn’t approach him. Instead his footsteps retreated to the window.

“You have done my son proud, Saix,” he said.

“Thank you, my Lord Ansem.” He didn’t know what his owner meant by that, but the response was automatic.

“I told him you could not be broken,” Ansem said. “You have proven me wrong. You have not only been obedient, you have bent the same skills that made you wild to my family’s service.”

He was silent.

“Do not be tempted, Saix,” Ansem said. “Mickey makes promises he cannot keep. Do not stray from this path. Behave as you have, and you will one day be to my son what Xehanort is to me.”

To be like Xehanort--a slave, but respected. Xehanort had power over the paid servants of the house, ran the palace as a queen might have done. It was a better life than Saix let himself hope for. “It would be my honor, my Lord Ansem.”

“But,” Ansem said sharply, “you must not forget your place again. You have a clever tongue, Saix, but you play a dangerous game. My cousin is convinced you are one of his hiding as one of mine.”

“I apologize, my Lord Ansem,” Saix murmured. “I am loyal to my master and my owner.”

“Then you are not to speak to my cousin again.” Footsteps sounded again, bringing his owner to stand over him as his master had stood over him earlier that day. “Not without my presence and my express permission.”

The order was a relief, in a way. It solidified what Ansem had implied--Saix was not going to be sold for this offense. “As you command, my Lord Ansem,” he replied. “May I tell him of my orders, if he asks to speak to me?”

“You may not,” Ansem replied sharply. “You will only tell him you do not wish to speak to him. If he gives you an order, you will obey him as my guest. But you will not speak to him beyond that.”

“As you command, my Lord Ansem,” he said.

“That is all. You are dismissed.”

“Thank you, my Lord Ansem.” He got to his feet, bowed low, and left to find his master.


	5. Chapter 5

_ Six years ago _

_ “Saix. wake up.” _

_ The slave’s eyes opened, looked up at his master. “Are we going out, Master?” he asked, sitting up and rubbing the dust out of his eyes. _

_ “Something like that. Get dressed.” _

_ “Yes, Master.” _

_ Saix dressed silently, for which Lea was grateful. This would be hard enough to pull off. _

_ “Where are we going, Master?” Saix asked as they headed to the garage. _

_ “Away.” Lea looked over his shoulder at him. “We’re leaving.” _

~

Present Day

Saix hit the ground face-first, the breath exploding from his lungs.

Braig laughed. “You got too comfortable, fighting Aeleus all the time,” he said. He was still gripping the arm he’d used to throw Saix to the ground, one knee pressing into the slave’s back. “Things change when you’re fighting an old man like me.”

Saix spat dirt out of his mouth. “Things change when I’m fighting someone who uses magic, you mean,” he growled. If  _ he _ could use magic…

“I’m a freak of nature,” Braig said gleefully. “Space just--bends around me when I want it to. So, do you yield?”

Saix growled. “I yield,” he muttered.

Braig put a little more pressure on his knee. “Sorry, didn’t hear that.”

“I  _ yield, _ damn you!” Saix repeated louder.

Braig laughed again, getting to his feet. “No need to curse just because you lost,” he said.

Saix ignored that, rolling onto his back to find Braig offering him a hand up. “Were I permitted to use magic--”

“Your Majesty!” Aeleus called out.

Saix’s mouth snapped shut and his head tilted back until he found his owner standing at the edge of the courtyard. Had he heard Saix’s outburst?

He didn’t take Braig’s hand. There was little point to standing up only to bow to his owner. Instead he rolled back over, rising to one knee and putting his hand over his heart, facing his owner.

Ansem, thankfully, didn’t seem to have heard or care about Saix’s complaint. “Braig,” he called. “With me. The rest of you, please don’t let me disturb your training.”

“Yes, sir,” Braig said, heading for his king. “See you, Saix.”

Saix waited until freeman and king had disappeared into the castle proper before standing and dusting himself off.

“Guess you’re with us, then,” Aeleus said, clapping him on the shoulder. Saix hid his startlement. “Come on.

“Don’t feel bad,” he added as he led Saix back. “Braig doesn’t lose when he starts playing with gravity and space like that. Just be glad he’s on our side--and thank the light there aren’t many like him in the world.”

Saix was silent. He’d been careless before, voicing his displeasure with being unable to use magic. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. His owner could be back at any minute.

Aeleus and Dilan had been sparring. Now Aeleus brought Saix into the circle. “You’ve been training against me too much,” he said. “Braig’s right about that. You should try Dilan.”

Saix eyed Dilan, wondering how different their fighting styles could be. Both men were big and heavily muscled, built for power.

He soon found out.

Dilan wasn’t an earth-style fighter like Lexaeus. He didn’t throw his weight into each strike. His attacks were based on movement, a more wind-oriented style of fighting. At first Saix tried to use fire, moving into each strike. But Dilan advanced too thoroughly. So he switched tactics. He would use water.

“Dilan’s lighter than he looks,” Aeleus advised Saix from outside the circle. “He’s got wind magic in him.”

“Does my lord Ansem employ any nonmagical guards?” Saix asked, hiding his irritation behind an honest question as he moved out of Dilan’s range again.

“A few,” Aeleus said. “But we’re more common around here. His Majesty prefers having guards with hidden talents.”

Wind magic explained his style of fighting, at least. Saix slid out of range of another attack, rocked his weight forward to land a glancing blow on Dilan’s shoulder before the guard moved again.

Water and wind were both movement-based, evasive styles of fighting. Saix could keep going this way indefinitely, but Dilan was too quick. He shifted his weight again, balancing evenly on both feet. There was one element left to try--Aeleus’s favorite, earth.

It turned out to be the right tactic. Dilan advanced over and over, aiming his attacks for Saix’s vulnerable areas. Saix blocked each one, retaliated, sinking low and using all his muscle to throw Dilan back again and again. Dilan was lighter and quicker than a normal man his size, but he wasn’t Aeleus or Braig. He couldn’t twist space, and he couldn’t keep going indefinitely. He began to tire.

Saix shifted forward, back to fire. Now that Dilan was on the defensive, he could do it. He stepped forward, aiming quick blows at Dilan’s body. Dilan blocked most of them, but Saix was ready for that. His attacks were jabs, easy to pull back. He wouldn’t commit too much of his body against a wind fighter; to do so would be inviting Dilan to throw him to the ground as Braig had done.

Finally, Dilan missed his attack, missed the chance to counter. Saix pushed in, jabbing and punching hard and fast, before hooking Dilan’s leg and throwing him to the ground just as Aeleus had done the first time they’d fought.

“You’re better than you look,” Dilan said when Saix helped him to his feet. “Better than I’d expect, with how long it’s been since you fought.”

Saix declined to mention why his muscles retained their memory so well, why he was so experienced in fighting after ten years of inaction. “You’re a challenge,” he said instead. “You’re very different from fighting Aeleus.”

“All of us have different styles,” Dilan told him. “It’s to be expected. It’s what makes us so good at our jobs. Your master’s back.”

Saix glanced over his shoulder and found Ansem returning with Braig at his side. “Owner, not master,” he corrected automatically. “My master is the prince.” He turned anyway, bowing low to his owner with his hands pressed together.

“Saix,” Ansem said. “My son will be rising soon.”

“Yes, my Lord Ansem,” Saix said, taking that as his cue to leave.

“And Saix,” Ansem added as his slave passed him.

Saix paused. “My Lord Ansem?”

“Do not question my orders again.”

So he  _ had  _ heard Saix grumbling about not being able to use magic. Saïx lowered his head. “As you command, my Lord Ansem. I beg your forgiveness.”

“You have a clever tongue,” Ansem said. “Keep it in check.”

“Yes, my Lord Ansem.”

“Dismissed.”

He hurried away. Somehow, yet again, he’d escaped punishment. Ansem was being generous with him lately. He’d started waiting for the other shoe to drop. Soon he’d flinch every time it didn’t.

He’d earned that generosity, though. It had been nearly three years since he’d been whipped, three years since he’d stepped out of line. He’d earned--

_ Stop that, _ he scolded himself.  _ You’ve earned nothing. You  _ can _ earn nothing. Because you  _ are _ nothing. Everything you have, you have because he gave it to you. _

He had to remember that. He had to be more careful. He knew all too well what awaited him if his owner decided once and for all that Saix couldn’t be broken. 

He could stay, though. He still had that chance. He would swallow his pride, squash his stubbornness, as he had for six years. They were weaknesses, cracks in the armor that kept him safe from his owner’s wrath. Submission, humility, obedience--those were safety.

He quickened his pace. His master, at least, approved of him. His master had never had him whipped, hadn’t beaten him even when Saix had betrayed his plan to leave the castle again. He’d gotten very, very lucky to have such a master. It was worth any price to stay with him.

He ran his finger along the collar around his neck, trying not to think of Mickey’s offer to set him free.

~

Mickey was leaving. Lea couldn’t help being glad of that. Saix had been--different, since Mickey had arrived. Some of the differences were good--Saix was back to looking him in the eye when they were alone, sometimes--but some of them were decidedly bad. Saix was tense all the time now, especially when Mickey or Ansem was around. Ansem, naturally, didn’t like the new Saix, no matter how much Lea might.

But Mickey was leaving. He was leaving, and Ansem had refused to sell Saix into freedom.

Lea looked over at the door when it opened to reveal Saix. “Hey,” he said, grinning. “You’re back late.”

Saix hesitated as he closed the door. “My apologies, Master,” he said, bowing low.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Lea said. “I’m not mad at you. I’m glad you have something you enjoy doing.”

Saix looked up at him without moving his head. Lea grinned at him, and the slave quickly looked down again. “Thank you, Master,” he said.

Lea sighed, sitting up and dragging a hand through his hair. The brief moment of eye contact had ended before it had begun, along with the flash of the old Saix who’d helped Lea sneak out to see Zack.

“I don’t know what happened,” he said. “But I’m not--you’re allowed to look at me, Saix. You used to do it all the time, you know I won’t punish you for it.”

“As you say, Master,” Saix murmured.

It was like talking to a wall. He wasn’t going to get any real answers. Something had broken Saix, turned him from a good friend to a good slave.

“Right,” he muttered, and sighed. “Well, wash up. You’re a mess.”

He tried to make his voice sound cheerful, but it was hard. Saix didn’t seem to mind, just bowed and went to the washroom to obey. Lea stared up at the ceiling, trying to remember when it had started.

No switch had flipped, he knew that much. He hadn’t woken up one day to find Saix a shell of who he’d been before. But little by little, Saix had changed. Started bowing like Lea was his own king, looking at the ground instead of his eyes, speaking more formally to Lea and Ansem. He never referred to Lea’s family by name anymore, always “my Lord Ansem” or “the young master.”

Saix returned after a few minutes, face washed and wearing fresh clothes. He fetched the clothes he’d set out for Lea the night before and moved to help his master get dressed.

Lea was too tired to fight him on it. Those flashes of the old Saix had gotten more frequent since Mickey had gotten here, but so had the tension that filled Saix every time he caught himself. If it made Saix feel better to help Lea get dressed, knowing full well Lea could do it himself, he’d let him. He couldn’t help noticing Saix’s hands were shaking, but he didn’t mention it.

“Master?” Saix asked when Lea was dressed for the day. “May I ask a favor?”

Lea blinked, trying to remember if Saix had ever asked him for anything that could be considered a “favor.” He came up empty. “Yeah,” he said at last. “‘Course you can.”

Saix hesitated, fiddling with the collar of Lea’s shirt, though Lea knew he’d already fixed it perfectly. Finally the slave let his hands fall to his sides.

“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” Saix said. “Please don’t think I’m ungrateful. But--please, don’t treat me like your friend.”

Lea tried to process that. “You  _ are  _ my friend.”

“I am your slave, Master,” Saix said. There was something in his voice Lea had never heard before, something so unfamiliar he couldn’t identify it. “I am your attendant. I’m your  _ property _ . Please don’t treat me as anything more.”

Something inside Lea ached terribly. “Why not?”

Saix dropped his gaze--then fell to his knees. “I want so badly to be your friend, Master,” he said, like he was confessing a terrible secret. “I will never stop wanting it. Please don’t let me pretend.”

“We  _ are _ friends.”

“I am your slave,” Saix repeated. “A slave cannot be friends with his master, because they are not equals.”

“I’m a  _ prince, _ Saix,” Lea pointed out. “No one’s my equal.”

“Even so, Master. Please.”

What was he supposed to do? Saix looked like he’d go to all fours, forehead to the ground, if Lea didn’t promise. Lea hated when he did that, but he wasn’t going to agree to treat Saix like a slave just to stop him from acting like a slave. That didn’t even make  _ sense. _

He was saved from answering by a knock on the door. “Your Highness?” someone called. Lea recognized the voice, but couldn’t place the speaker.

He seized the chance to divert Saix from this line of conversation. “Saix, get up and get the door.”

Saix stood, relief clear on his face. Lea didn’t point out to him that he hadn’t agreed to what Saix was asking of him. He wasn’t sure he  _ could _ agree. He relied on Saix, trusted him with his life. Saix had to know what that meant to Lea--right?

“Braig,” Saix said, surprised. “You needed my master?”

“Actually, I needed you.” The guard--now Lea recognized him--poked his head in to look at Lea. “I need to borrow Saix a while. That okay?”

Lea nodded. “Go ahead. Saix, just come find me when you’re done.” That would give him time to sort out the mess of feelings Saix’s request had stirred up.

Saix bowed to him, hands pressed together in front of his chest, and left with Braig. Lea fell back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Saix didn’t think they were friends. That was the first thing he had to realize after all that. Saix saw himself as nothing more than Lea’s attendant. He was afraid to see himself as anything else.

That hadn’t been the case before. Lea thought back to the days of riding lessons, the two of them racing their horses faster and faster, Saix winning more than he lost and laughing at Lea for trying to pull rank on him when he did. Saix had met his eyes back then, anytime Ansem wasn’t there to see and scold him. And then… when had it started? When had Saix’s eyes fallen? When had he stopped being Lea’s friend?

He’d spent weeks trying to sort through it, since Mickey’s arrival and the attempt on Lea’s life had stirred up pieces of the old Saix. But he still didn’t know. Maybe he never would.

No. That much, he could control. He could--he  _ would _ \--find out what had turned his best friend into this shrinking shell.


	6. Author's Note

Obviously, I'm behind on updates. To be honest, every time Friday rolls around I plain forget. I'm also neck-deep in my last term of college--I have three presentations and six papers to write in the next three weeks, not to mention my various tests and a short film we haven't even really talked about yet. On top of all that, I've started doubting this fic. It's been a lot of muse torture and I'm finally reaching the plot and it's just--a long and rambling thing at this point and it doesn't live up to my normal standards. I love writing it and reading what I've written, but I still don't see where it's going to end. I have it planned, sure, but getting there is a problem.

So. What does all that mean?

It means this is  _on hiatus_ until Christmas. I graduate from college on December 17, then I have the most hectic week of my job (which is fine, they still can't let me go over 28 hours so I'll survive) and have to get presents made for my entire family. We'll be back somewhere between December 16 and January 6. In addition to this fic, I plan to have some or all of the following going up the first week of January:

  * _Nobody,_ the story of a modernized Roxas as he tries to get back his heart and protect the people he cares about
  * _Dark Side of the Moon,_ a superhero AU starring Isa (who else)
  * _Under the Same Moon,_ another contribution to the Organization XIII fandom and another fantasy AU
  * Two  _Silent Hill_ crossovers--one starring Ven and Vanitas as a midquel/alternate ending to BBS and one starring Lea post-DDD
  * My attempt at KHIII (gotta get it going before the real one comes out)



This fic may get rewritten as part of my campaign to get all my KH ideas on paper (or at least Google Docs). I haven't decided yet. I'm going to try to finish this version before rewriting it, if I do.


	7. Final Author's Note

This fic is being rewritten from the beginning. It won't be all new--I'm keeping large chunks of this version. The new version is called Cast Beyond The Moon and can be found [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9403562).


End file.
